a six-month vacation on Union Square

thank God the holidays are over. now if i can just lose ten pounds by monday... as if.

Day of the Ex Boyfriends.

i got email from both ChriMu and JR and had a few pleasant moments writing them back and catching up. considering what a piece of crap i was to JR, it's a mitzvah that he's kind enough to write to me. on the other hand, Murph's a funny old thing (some of you know him as "EEC") and though we seldom speak, it's nice to hear what he's up to. hell, it's always good to hear that people one dedicated ginormous chunks of your life to are happy and doing well, even if you occasionally wish you could poke them with your And-another-thing finger or rewind the clock and be less of a jerk-off, or not have jumped in with both feet when cautious toes would have been wiser.

that's always it, though. for those of us in-love-with-love types, it's always the ungraceful cannonball, the major lift and the inevitable plunge, or as i think i called it a while back on this blog, the problem of gravity. what comes up must come down. my mom says that when you lost weight, the slower it comes off, the more likely it is to stay off. there's some corollary there to the problem of love.

i'm surely wiser at twenty six (?!?!!) than i was at twenty one, or at seventeen, but i still haven't quite got the thing down where you don't give your heart away in two months or six or whatever, where you remember that the other person has to deserve you, too. that, and that they probably mean 99% of the things they say that you don't like. hysterical.

i suggested that people should have warning labels. like the better business bureau, or standardized personality tests, you should be able to know in advance whether the perfectly lovely human being you sleep with three nights out of seven is ever going to warm up to the idea of a committed relationship, or whether they are Emotionally Unavailable. whether the beautiful girl your best friend is dating is really as charmingly innocent as he believes her to be, or if she is in fact Out Of Her Cotton-Pickin' Mind.

if anyone wants to volunteer information about themselves, shoot. that's what the comments are for and anyway, you can put nice things in, too. like, you could say: "ME!: intelligent, handsome, but extremely squirrelly 32 Y.O. with huge, enormous, dong, and deep-seated commitment issues. neat freak and vegetarian. YOU?: pref. intellectual types with glasses and at least two kinds of sex toys. blondes, over-thirties and type-A personalities need not apply, because i'm kind of insecure." and no crap about how that would take all the fun and mystery out of dating, because seriously, if that's what you think, then you're either fifteen or a Mormon, or both. dating could use a lot more fun and a lot less mystery, and that's a fact.

as for me:
ME: Highly sensual and indulgent Americanized Latina with big round ass seeks extremely masculine smarty-pants with a sense of humor about himself. Highly sentimental, introverted-extrovert, occasionally unreliable, often fickle, easily bored, sci-fi nerd. No metrosexuals!!! YOU: No midgets. No one who does not read whole actual books often. Me... Smoker, drinker, excellent cook. Snores when under the influence of alcohol. Loud. No dummy, but a bit of a space cadet. Rarely bitchy or maliciously insane.